Overwhelmed

We lived on the reservation. There wasn’t much else to do so we drank. I like to think it was love that brought us together. Still, when feelings of remorse engulf me during the dark March nights I know it was the drinking that pulled us apart.

When I think of her I feel hopeless, overwhelmed by desire. I see her lying naked in my arms, our bodies entwined like perfect circles waiting to be drawn. By stilling my thoughts I find that place in my heart where love abides without demanding allegiance.

I hardly ever drink these days. Each anniversary of her death I do indulge, however. I try to forget the last time we talked, but I am not seeking the beauty of lies here so I should tell the truth.

We didn’t talk during our last meeting.

We fought, her dark eyes spilling tears of regret at us having ever met.

When the night is quiet I still hear her sobs.

When her father told me I should go I did as he said. Why do I always do what people tell me to do? Why didn’t I stay? She might still be alive today. The agony of loss overwhelms me at times even now, years after I learned the truth.

She died alone on the floor beside our bed after downing a handful of pills and a bottle of booze, choking to death on her own vomit. They called it an accident. I alone knew better.

Though she is in her grave, I live. In my mind, I tell myself how I want to die too but this body keeps walking around. I suppose even though I can’t think of a reason to live my body cannot think of any reason to lie down and die.

So I go on.

Though they seem familiar I walk strange paths. I am a stump of a rotten tree. My eyes are dazed. My mind is so constricted I hardly know it. My tongue is so numb I cannot form words to speak. Decay and growth, fullness and emptiness, darkness and light, all these things ensue both day and night and yet no one understands this process. Life begins where it springs forth. Death has a place where it returns. No one knows how either comes to an end.

I came upon three doors that I had never noticed before though I walk these streets of stone daily. Being curious that these doors had heretofore been hidden from me I walked over to them.

I opened the door on the left to look inside. I saw that walking the path of my thoughts was not the way to understand the universe. I closed that door and opened the door on the right. I saw that walking the path of avoidance was avoidance in itself. I closed that door and opened the middle door. I saw behind that door a path that went ever on yet didn’t lead anywhere so that is the way I chose.

I watch as the rich embitter themselves with incessant labor. They act for that which is external to them. I watch as the famous carry their pursuit of honors day and night, full of anxiety whether their skills are enough to sustain them. I watch as they treat their bodies indifferently as if it matters not. I see we are born into sorrow. If we live long enough we become increasingly stupid.

I am overwhelmed easily. The requirements placed upon me by the world are endless yet by doing nothing all is done. Everyone else has a destination in mind. I wander aimlessly taking what is offered leaving behind what I do not need. I consider doing nothing to be the greatest enjoyment while others consider it the greatest evil.

So I have come to see perfect enjoyment is to be without enjoyment.

The highest praise is to be without praise.

Allow me to explain this more fully: heaven does nothing and so it is serene. Earth does nothing and so it is at rest. By the coming together of heaven and earth all things are produced. They seem to come from nowhere. All things grow from inaction. Heaven and earth do nothing and yet there is nothing they cannot do.

By constantly doing everything demanded of me I am soon overwhelmed. Sitting quietly I come to understand all my words are about this entanglement of life. Reflecting on the commencement of my being there was a time when I was not yet born to life.

I had no form, no breath.

A change occurred with no action on my part. I came into being.

I live.

One day another change will occur again with no action on my part. I will pass back to that emptiness from which I appeared.

I die.

The relationship between these things is like the procession of the seasons. Understanding this I realize what has been appointed for all. By cultivating inaction I restrain myself from hurrying forward to that which waits at the end of life. By having no intention I shed the accoutrements of the world giving myself over to independence.

From time to time a woman soft and tempting will cross my path. We might walk together a short while hand in hand through the thorn thickets of this unrelenting freedom until she grows weary of her futile attempts at redeeming me and my unsavory qualities. When she goes I can never be sure if she was ever there at all.

By quieting my desires I staunch the wounds she left bleeding in my soul. Keeping close to the center I never wander far from where my heart lies. By walking the path without purpose I stay behind while others rush ahead.

The early morning sunshine blinds my eyes.

The roar of traffic on the highway deadens my ears.

Spicy foods dull my taste.

My thoughts chasing each other like angry monkeys cloud my mind.

Precious things lead me from the path.

I am guided by what I feel in my heart and not by what I see in the world.

I let go of that and choose the mystery.